


ascend summer

by anenko



Category: Noir - Fandom
Genre: Community: springkink, Established Relationship, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-05
Updated: 2007-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anenko/pseuds/anenko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mireille wakes up; Kirika is ready.</p>
            </blockquote>





	ascend summer

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Oct. 29 - Noir, Kirika/Mireille: romance - "We were hands, we baled the darkness empty, we found the word that ascended summer: flower."

Mireille thought herself to be relatively adaptable; a good assassin _had_ to be. Still, Mireille would gladly take a warm clime and wide, open beaches over any other location, if given the choice. She met the sight of snow at her window with a small moue of distaste--and immediately slumped back into her rumpled bed sheets, drawing her comforter more tightly around her shoulders.

Snow was not without it's charm: pure, beautiful, and dangerous--but best appreciated from a distance.

Kirika's voice carried clearly from their tiny kitchen. "Would you like some tea?" she asked. Tea cups clinked gently in the otherwise silent apartment; Mireille's answer was the same every morning, as much a part of their routine as Kirika's question.

"Yes," Mireille murmured into the crook of her arm. "Yes, tea would be lovely," she said.

Mireille closed her eyes, and waited, still and quiet. She felt lazy, content--safe, buried under the covers as Kirika shuffled about their small apartment. She was growing mellow with age, Mireille thought, and couldn't bring herself to care.

"Mireille," Kirika said softly. "Mireille."

Mireille opened her eyes. Kirika stood at the foot of the bed, still in her nightclothes, her hair disheveled. Two cups were set precisely on a tea tray, next to a narrow vase containing a single flower. Mireille stared at the flower, startled.

Kirika ducked her head. "You don't like it?" she asked, awkward and young and unbearably precious.

Mireille's lips curled. "No," she said, "it's perfect."

She pulled back the covers, making room at her side for Kirika.


End file.
